Maybe Someday
by CSI3Snickers
Summary: A bittersweet fic...


Disclaimer: I don't own any characters in this story. I don't own Monica Casey, either. We all know who she belongs to…. cries (Don't sue me… I'm only 14.)

AN:BTW, the update for the LVCL would be uploaded about after next week. I have finals...

Sara POV

I've been in love with Nicholas Stokes for God knows how long. We met each other in the break room about 7 years ago. He was patting down his shirt to get Meyer's roof dust off. He introduced himself to me and I heard his bolt producing Texan accent. I shook his hand and I felt the softest hand a man could have.

At first it was just this stupid little infatuation. You know, just like you would have one on Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise or somebody in Hollywood. Nick is, undoubtedly, attractive. He's the epitome of good-looking. He should be an underwear model, not a crime scene investigator—I know, that image has crossed my mind many, many times. I mean, good looking people like that shouldn't be solving crimes. But no, Nick is Nick.

He's very shy about his looks. He would just casually shrug off the praises he gets from the female lab techs. I wonder if he knows he's really good looking. I mean, even if he does know right now, he doesn't care. A lot of guys stick to their belief of, "I'm hot and I know it." Nick begs to differ.

Nick has been at the bottom of the pyramid when it comes to stereotypes. You know, Texans are a bit slow…not in the least true, by the way. Frat guys and their crazy antics being carried on during their adulthood…not as far as I can tell. Good-looking single guys being playboys…he admitted he was once one, but he said and I quote, "I grew up." Heck, even in his taste in music! Not all Texans live on country music. Every time we used his Tahoe to go to crime scenes, we'd listen to rock.

Our relationships had always been fun. Like… best friends in love. Nah, more like: one in love with her best friend. I'm not one for cheesy romance movies, but this is starting to look like one. The ugly duckling falling in love with her Adonis best friend. He doesn't know about my undying love for him. I'd just hope he would reciprocate the feeling. Now I, or hopefully we, just have to play a waiting game—doing nothing to test the waters.

Once or twice, I've been close to telling him how I feel. But then stop signs and red lights go off in my head, reminding me of the two times I've been broken-hearted.

First it was Hank. The asshole was using me as a side. Why I didn't tell Elaine about this to ruin his sorry-ass life, I'd never understand. I wanted to tell Nick about this, but I didn't want him to be accused of a second crime in his career.

Second was my boss, Grissom. I had this temporary fixation on him. I asked him out on a date, and he turned me down. After his little speech in the interrogation room, I permanently got over him. I thought of the time I wasted on him, and laughed at my own blindness and stupidity.

Then, I got back to Nick again. I made no progress, obviously. I berated myself day in day out.

Things got so bad that I confided to Catherine. Yes, Catherine Willows. We've had our bad times, but we're way past that. I told her all about Nick. She didn't seem in the least surprised. She gave me a ton of advice on how to strike up a relationship with him. But I never got a move on anything. I'd keep on telling her, "No, that's not gonna work, it's too forward." Then, she'd reply, "That was my point."

She said that Nick was in denial. She actually thinks that he has feelings for me. She told me that we were sending each other mixed messages. That he's not making a move because I'm not making a move either since he thinks that I think he's not my type. Whew. Catherine actually said that three times faster. It's complicated, really

Right now, I don't believe Catherine, as much as I'd like to.

I had my biggest chance after his kidnapping. I was actually the one who found him, and I thought that was the first step. The second step would be that I'd "comfort him in his time of need." How evil of me, but that was all I came up with. It didn't happen.

He was more vulnerable than any man in this planet had ever thought. He seemed withdrawn, so emotionally unavailable. You could have had all of the strippers from Las Vegas to do lap dances on him, and he wouldn't have given a damn. It looked like he didn't care anymore. He was so depressed; he regretted every mistake he'd ever made. He began to think about what he could have been in life, what he shouldn't have done, he was ashamed that he had wasted so much time being a careless bachelor rather than have a nice, loving family. Once or twice, I'd see him sitting on the floor in the corner of the locker room, balled up in his very own arms, crying softly.

Every time I find him that way, though, I wouldn't go near him, even if I really wanted to give him a hug or just calm him down. I felt like such a prick. I was afraid of him pushing me away. Sometimes, I'd think of risking that just to make him stop hurting himself. He was tearing himself apart, piece by piece.

So I made my so-called "move" on him. About two months after he was kidnapped, I offered him to stay in my house, so he doesn't have to live alone. At first, he said no, that he didn't want to be a freeloader, yet I insisted. So, he stayed.

We had a little rule in the staying-in-my-house thing. What happens there stays there. I mean, our coworkers know he's staying at my house, period. We didn't tell them what happened this day or the next day or whatever. Only after three weeks of this proposal, red flags started to go up in the lab. Rumor mills started going off, saying that Nick and I are dating. Someone from dayshift even spread the rumor that Nick and I eloped. Apparently, the only things that they take delight in are lives other than theirs.

After the rumors spread, Nick moved back to his place. Besides, he's lived in my apartment for three weeks. He claimed he was already fine. Neither of us believed that was the reason, but I let him get away. Like I always have.

Fortunately, there was no awkwardness or anything. When we worked together, we always had the banter and fun between us. Yeah, that's right. We work together again. The shift split ended a month after Nick was kidnapped, due to Grissom's very first and only appearance in the staff meeting.

As of now, it's been a year since Nick was kidnapped. I snap out of my reverie as I focus on the road to the crime lab. I parked my SUV on the spot nest to Nick's. Gee, how ironic…

I walk in the front entrance, plotting on how I'd tell Nick my feelings. This is the day. Or night. Hopefully.

I approached the front desk to check if I had any messages. I don't get messages a lot, though, so I call this my "temporary procrastination to work treatment". It works all the time.

I saw a blond girl talking to Judy, something about requesting a CSI. She was wearing a jean jacket and green cargo pants. She was about two inches shorter that me. And she has what seems to be like a Canadian accent, maybe.

I walked beside her, and smiled. She smiled back as a polite gesture. Judy handed me a small yellow slip of paper that had a message in it. Well, what do you know; I do get messages after all. I thanked her and I left and started walking to the locker room to hang my coat and get my crime-fighting equipment. Yes, I do get small-minded at times….shut up.

I opened my locker and hung my coat on one of the hooks. I unfolded the small slip of paper to read my message._ Trial for the Fields' case on recess for two days_. Pfft… I got my hopes up for a better message.

I walked to the break room, finding Nick there. He was sitting on the break room couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, reading the newspaper. I walked over to the coffee machine, and he greeted me.

"Good evening, Sunshine," he drawled, not even looking up from his newspaper. I blushed. He never stopped calling me that ever since the Portia Richmond case.

"Hey, Tex," My usual comeback greeting is lame… but it's something.

I sat beside him, and took a deep breath.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?" he looked up from his newspaper to look at me intently.

"I have to tell you something." I'm almost there….

"What is it, honey?" he asked good-naturedly.

Right then, Grissom walked in along with his two of his musketeers, Cath and War. Damn it! Catherine sensed something and smiled at me knowingly. I gave her the "don't-even-think-about-it" look.

"I'll, uh, tell you later," I told Nick.

"Oh, sure."

Grissom began, "Okay guys, Catherine and I have to work the 419 in the casino. Warrick, finish your paperwork on the McDowell case. Nick, Sara, 419 in a college." With that, Grissom and Catherine were gone.

"Later, guys," Warrick then waved.

"Later," Nick and I chorused.

"So, Nicky, you and me, 419," I stated the obvious.

"Let's get going," He stood up and held the door for me.

We walked down the hall, his arm slung on my shoulder as we talked about nothing in particular.

"Hey, Sar, mind walking to the front desk? I forgot to pick up my messages," he asked and we turned to the direction of the lobby.

Upon walking to the front desk, I saw the blond I had seen earlier, still there. It's must've been five minutes, I think. She was still talking to Judy, but they were smiling this time, not like earlier, the all business conversation.

To my surprise, Judy pointed towards our direction and the blond turned around.

"Sweetie!" the blond seemed to be regarding Nick.

"Hey, sweetie, what are you doing here?" Nick slowly took his arm off my shoulders and approached her. They kissed softly. When they pulled apart, the blond handed him a cell phone.

"You left it at home," she replied. I felt a stabbing pain in my chest as soon as all thoughts finally resonated.

"Thanks," Nick shoved the phone in its holster. "Oh, Monica, this is my best friend, Sara Sidle. She's a CSI, too," he gestured to me.

"Hi Sara," she greeted. She shook my hand. "I'm Monica. Monica Casey."

"Hey Monica…So you and Nick…you're dating?"

"Yeah, seen months now," she paused to look at Nick, who was grinning. "We met at a blind date," she continued, smiling.

"Actually, we first met when I was hospitalized after I was, um, kidnapped. She was my nurse."

"Ah. Interesting," was the only thing I could say that won't have anyone thinking I have Tourette 's syndrome. I felt tears stinging my eye.

I had to leave, "Oh, God, Nick! I, um, left something in the locker room. I'll meet you at the lot, okay?" I turned to leave. I turned back, "Nice to meet you, Monica!" I practically yelled down the hall. I heard her say in her Canadian accent, "You too!"

I rushed to the locker room, locking the door when I got in. I cried myself out. Three times now. Three times I've been heart broken. Sometimes you'd think, "Third time's a charm." This is real life.

I've spent all my adult life looking for "the one". Right now, all hopes were lost. I was so tired, so tired of not having that person and watching other people who do.

I wiped my tears away to keep the pain to myself.

I walked out of the locker room after washing my face and regaining my composure. I put on my happy face when I saw Nick leaning back on his Tahoe, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Hey, got what you need?"

"Yeah."

He turned towards the driver's seat when I touched his shoulder with my hand. He turned to face me. I locked my eyes with him, and then I hugged him.

"I'm happy for you, Nick." That was the biggest lie I've ever told.

He hugged me back and replied, "I'm glad, thank you."

I decided that I wasn't going to give up on Nick. I've waited for him for seven years, what's some more?

"You wanted to tell me something earlier?" He pulled away to look at me. He had his hands grip my biceps gently.

"Yeah… I'm…I'm glad… that you're okay now," I fumbled.

Somehow, I sensed that he knew that that wasn't what I wanted to tell him, but he let it pass.

I love him, and I always will. I can't tell him now. Not now. Maybe someday, but not now.

THE END

AN: PLEASE R/R! I'm thinking of writing a sequel, but I've always wanted to write a long one-shot fic. Tell me what you think…. PLEASE! I cried when I wrote this, but then again, I'm a bit shallow when it comes to CSI.


End file.
